


waiting in wings

by xenophiliac



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Emotional Trauma, F/M, Multi, Other, going home after 23 years, haurchefant dies and we cry over him, if you spoil shadowbringers for me i will deactivate, tags will be added as i write more, taking care of your fairy, twin schenanigans, working over said emotional trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenophiliac/pseuds/xenophiliac
Summary: alternatively:the warrior of light is a shithead.
Relationships: Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Being Happy, Warrior of Light/Probably someone else at some point
Kudos: 6





	1. there's a campfire there, somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> for clarification:  
> i have two warriors of light, they're twins, their names are cirina and elta. they're xaela born in the azim steppe, raised in gridania, no one really knows how they got there? they're 27. elta is a scholar, ciri is a warrior, he can't read, she can't write. they're giantic idiots.  
> this is just a series of relatively harmless drabbles to help me finally find my writing style and perfect it.

the clock strikes midnight when she asks, 

"elta," 

with the softest voice he'd heard her use for years, 

"are you awake?"

he shifts in his tent once, to unwrap from the blankets. twice, to open the front of it. 

thrice, to lean out.

then he replies with a smirk, 

"no." he says, propping himself up on his elbows and using his hands to rest his chin. 

"or i wasn't, but i don't think i was asleep either. it's okay."

ciri forms a fist with her left hand. clenches it a little too hard, too stiff, too everything — grinds nails into skin like knives into flesh. it's okay. but it does not feel that way.

she has relied on him for so long, yet she still feels guilty while asking for help.

"i," she begins, but her lips feel dry and voice wavers, and she, oh twelve, she feels weak and she hates it, "i had a nightmare."

it is not the first time, nor the last. night terrors plague ciri since the dawn of eternity and elta has always plagued them, mostly by lulling her back to sleep safely. he doesn't mind it at all. she minds — she feels weak and childish and

and yet

when their mother appeared in her dreamscape again,

with peeling skin and muscles decaying,

all she wishes for was to be safe in her brother's arms again.

all she needs to do is ask. but asking is hard if you've beaten yourself into thinking that your worth relies only on how you build yourself, all alone.

elta understands.

so, he waits.

ciri takes deep breaths. tries to make words form at the base of her throat, then her tongue, then

they never move out of her mouth

so she tries again.

then she is able to begin, stutters out, "can i,"

and stops dead in her tracks.

at that point, elta is nigh certain that she has ripped open skin on her hand.

"sleep in your tent."

it is not said like a question should. maybe it isn't, at least not aimed at elta,

(ciri knows his answer will forever be an enthusiastic agreement)

it's more for herself and her sense of pride,

or lack thereof.

elta moves a little and manages to half heartedly sit up.

"come on in," he answers, one arm already holding up the flaps serving as tent doors so she has an easier time crawling in, "you're always welcome."

it takes them half a bell to fall asleep again.

ciri has no nightmares, but elta is plagued by his dear sister drooling over his pillows.


	2. a stitch in time saves nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternatively:  
> how elta worries more about the well being of his faerie than his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set right before praetorium, nothing bad happens, promise.

elta had never considered himself to be frail physically,

not that he could catch himself thinking that way, actually, because he's big and strong, and there are few things that truly exhaust him,

so 

he tends to forget that others do not have durability such as he.

when first encountered with a familiar,

(poor emerald carbuncle)

he tries his best to keep the pet well taken care of, in every way he can think of,

but it does escape his mind that the stamina of a summon is not entirely endless.

it isn't brought to his attention, because they don't do anything too noteworthy - also, even with hydaelyn's love constantly breathing down his back, elta only allows himself skipping one night with no sleep.

thus he remains ignorant,

at least until eos.

with said faerie, he develops a stronger bond 

(not to shade his lovely carbuncles, but elta is a lover, not a fighter)

they stay together through thick and thin, and

by the faerie's own demand,

elta only ever orders her away when completely necessary.

he enjoys that, though

it's a little less lonely,

a little less daunting to be left with his thoughts.

for when the familiar flutter of her wings fills his ears, he knows that he has a friend by his side.

with full confidence can elta proclaim his affection for his tiny companion, 

she is like a tiny older sister with an ocean of knowledge locked deep inside

(and an affinity for pranks when the moon waxes, which elta has learned the hard way)

so

once they are locked out from the rest of the world,

close enough to the praetorium that elta can feel the buzz of the ultima weapon in his bones,

he notices that

the flutter of her wings is a little slower than usual.

for the first moment he fears that she has been hurt,

(she wasn't)

or that mayhap she caught wind of an illness

(also wrong).

but once he focuses a little more, he realizes that

eos is just tired.

elta chuckles, because, oh, does he know the feeling or what, he's been running on backup energy for at least a bell,

and he isn't ecstatic about the state of his companion, but it serves as a good reminder

eos needs him as much as he needs her.

a moment passes where he ponders his next course of action

and a moment more before he realizes he's no clear plan in mind,

so elta does what his heart tells him to,

and places his right palm under eos' legs.

once the faerie's tiny footsies touch his warm glove, eos jumps

(jumps! how long had it been since she had touched a surface? stood there? rested?)

and gently recoils in surprise.

she looks at her scholar,

blinks once,

then twice,

then she smiles and beams up at him,

flutters her wings with excitement resounding that of childish giggles.

"you can rest," he coos, voice as soft as he can manage, "i won't be mad, i promise."

he then gently sets the faery upon his horn, 

gives her tiny head a pat with an index finger

and

elta cannot suppress the grin that forms on his face once eos flutters her wings again.

she's so precious and cute,

and he's so happy to have her as a companion.


	3. a second bite at the cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternatively:  
> (crying) (sobbing) (crying)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently this is angsty enough to make one of my friends cry.  
> happens right after the vault, during heavensward.

the vault is not unpleasant - not chaotic nor destructive, nor deadly, for that matter. 

ciri feels

satisfied.

the very grip of her axe is bent and molded to fit her palm perfectly,

the plates of her armor feel favorably heavy as she chucks a tomahawk into a group of temple knights and

all the anger she has harbored for the church

and properly nurtured, watered,

has matured into a nigh unquenchable need for slaughter, which she means to indulge.

elta, on the other hand, has to keep himself focused,

because the right of his eyes has seen better days 

and it is almost benefical for him to close it, as it has become unable to detect anything but the closest objects.

other than that single complaint,

he weaves aether and arcanima as gracefully as he has always, 

keeps an eye

(only one, for now)

out on his faerie companion 

and

casts one too many shields on his sister, just in case.

murder is fun when commited by the entire family.

things are well,

until they aren't.

until ciri tires of watching yet another villain leisurely depart as she is unable to do anything,

until haurchefant understands what she means with no words,

until

he takes an attack clearly meant for her,

and until she is dealt a blow as heavy as he,

with her hands desperately grasping his own in a futile attempt to hold him close for one last time,

the issue isn't that she doesn't succeed

it is that she does

and that ciri will never be able to hold haurchefant close again.

no one knows what to do - not even elta, 

who is a seasoned healer well versed in many cautreizing affairs,

because what struck a hole through haurchefant's goddamn chest is not anything he is even remotely familiar with

whatever aetheric bullshit or godlike spear of light that was,

maybe even if elta knew,

he wouldn't be able to do anything.

bad things always tend to happen to good people.

when haurchefant speaks his last 

(or mayhap the first)

request,

both siblings gladly indulge him.

elta gingerly wipes sweat off his forehead and tucks silver hair behind his ear,

all too careful not to hurt or overstimulate him.

for the bastard son of house fortemps was, is and forever will be elta's dear friend, 

but 

he is also someone who shared a much more meaningful bond with his sister than he,

so elta smiles both for him and her,

because he will have time to say his goodbyes later, as they always have.

even as tears irritate's ciris face and run down her cheeks,

she grins,

and she laughs for the first time that spring,

brings his fragile hand to rest upon her cheek with the support provided by her own

ciri whispers, 'i'll miss you'

her voice tender and soothing.

few seconds does it take for everyone to realize what she said was more than a confession of longing.

her plan was to whisper everything to him once this is all over, but since it seems she won't be able to do so, now is as good of a time as any.

whilst his consciousness still lingers, barely keeping grip on his heavy, tiresome body

ciri murmurs him a sentence, then another,

meant for his ears alone.

in all time they had together, ciri found herself smitten,

but she also found that her feelings for haurchefant were not only platonic in nature,

for her heart oft could go barely a moment without reminding her of how much it misses him,

or what joy he brings whenever she spots him, even in great distance,

or how childishly excited it gets whenever a smile adorns his face through her actions, 

how it eternally threatens to beat right out of her ribcage.

with time, the feelings and their buzz started to quiet down, but never decreased in volume.

but ciri doesn't despair over not having them reciprocated in their entirety,

because loving haurchefant was the one best thing to ever happen to her.

and

she whispers to him, he was the best person in her life,

murmurs softly, 'i'll never regret loving you.'

mayhap he heard only half of her confession, a quarter, or all of it - she doesn't know, nor does she care, because haurchefant had known everything for a long time.

despair will swallow her heart once everything comes to pass,

but for the time being, ciri sobs silently with a smile on her face.

it is all she is able to do.


	4. bed of roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternatively:  
> like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happens during the middle of stormblood.  
> apparently going back home after years is some weird form of catharsis.

they are going to the azim steppe and

they are walking there at a brisk pace, which used to be quite slow and normal, and 

it only changed because ciri kept skipping ahead of the group 

and they were a little worried about her going alone.

she looks happier than they've ever seen her, with the resting expression of her face being an excited smile,

which, some people from the group, have never seen her wear,

all except for elta

and yuigiri, but she saw it passingly while observing from the shadows.

it's not something usual.

they look to elta for an explanation, which he gives,

kind of,

because he beams in response, gives lyse a wink

(or was it a blink?)

and laughs at her confusion.

only yugiri asks outright, for the others, mostly, because she had connected point a and b long ago,

with a sliver of a smile, 'what is your sister doing?' she asks.

'she's happy.'

a gust of wind blows by them and it carries ciri's laughter, brings with itself the smell of the steppe and a distinc feeling of nostalgia.

'she can finally go home.'

the group is finally satisfied with an answer.

* * *

(all of them except for lyse, actually, who asks elta if he is also happy to be going home,

who has to suffer through getting a noogie from the au'ra

who now has ruined hair

he gives her an answer, however, chuckles with excitement and says, 'yes.'

'i never thought i'd miss the steppe like this.')

* * *

once they walk out from the tunnel,

they are greeted with the forever unfinished horizon, the comfort of hard soil under their feet and the sight of hundreds or thousands of xaela there,

in the distance,

_there, alive._

it takes them a second to find ciri, because the soft sobbing coming from atop a rock adjacent to the path that leads to reunion gives her away immediately.

she sits there with a hand over her mouth, 

with tear stains decorating her cheeks and a still obvious smile decorating her face,

once everyone rushes over to her side in worry, ciri moves to better look at them,

finds elta

whispers,

'we're finally home.'

as if she doesn't believe it herself.


End file.
